Mysteries in the Mist
It was a little unsettling stepping into his old room. He drew his breath in sharply through clenched teeth—memories of Skallagrim came flooding back as his eyes settled on the runes inscribed above the door: ᛟᛞᛁᚾ. Silently, he mouthed the letters … Othala … Dagaz … Isa … Nauthiz … A sudden chill washed over him as his eyes darted from wall to wall, taking in other runic symbols and the power they projected. There were plenty of reminders fixed throughout the small chamber from his troubled past. Up until now, Kristoff had been avoiding coming to this room and slept inside his snowcat instead. It was even more unsettling knowing that Anna had taken up residence here.
For the most part, the space looked the same as he remembered it. It was obvious that Bulda had maintained the chamber, although it now had a few Anna enhancements, like a vase overflowing with flowers perched on the solitary desk, along with a few strategically placed wreaths tacked on the walls.
Some things were distinctly the same however. There was his Hnefatafl set—a game vaguely similar to chess—sitting next to Anna's flowers. He even noticed his old guitar, its fret board worn through use, leaning on a stand in the corner.
He walked over to the rough-hewn desk and stood over the carved crystal Hnefatafl pieces, each token hovering in mid-play. Pabbie had chosen the position of attacker, while Kristoff had played the defender. The attacking force outnumbered the defending force—its objective to capture the defender's King. Kristoff was particularly good at this game, but had left it unfinished. He sighed, suddenly struck by a wave of nostalgia. Am I ever going to be able to break free of my past?
At eighteen, quite young by Trallis standards, he had struck out on his own to become an ice harvester, partially to leave his past behind, partially because it was time to forge a new destiny. He still remembered it as if it were yesterday. Bulda was upset, naturally—she had grown very attached to him over the year they spent together—but she reluctantly understood. He left the Trallis community with the reminder that he would always be welcomed back, that this would always be his home—yet he had been pestered by a persistent itch, and with that came the certain knowledge that he could never really settle here.
He shook the memories from his head. No time for that now.
Kristoff made his way to his former bed, surprised to find it covered with a spread adorned with a snowflake motif. As he came closer, he picked up her scent. Again, he drew his breath in sharply. Her essence was subtly different than what he was used to, pleasant to be sure, but, quite frankly, it left him feeling miserable. He was assaulted by jumbled emotions. Every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of her. What the hell is going on with me?
After Pabbie's announcement regarding the approaching Crucis ship, Anna had softened toward him … slightly. The barrier between them hadn't quite fallen and, unfortunately, still held firm enough.
Idiot. By now he was used to blaming himself for that kiss.
He crouched by the bed and reached underneath. His arm stretched as far as it would go until his fingers came in contact with a solid object. It's still here! He was confident it would be, yet wasn't sure if he should be relieved, horrified, or grateful.
Gently, he pulled the object back toward himself, revealing a rectangular wooden box covered by giant motes of dust.
He blew on the cover, which promptly caused him to sneeze as particles scattered in the air. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he stood upright, and went searching for a suitable rag.
Placing the box on the table, next to the Hnefatafl set, he then wiped down its surface. There, etched into the lid in bas-relief, were three stylized images. Odin, the Allfather, stood in the center. On either side of him stood two figures, each carved with the bodies of men, but curiously adorned with the heads of animals. Bjørn and ulv … A red petal from the nearby vase fell and drifted toward the box until Kristoff caught it in mid-air.
Am I doing the right thing? If he had been the only person to consider, there would be no need for debate. His heart pulsed a little faster as he finalized his decision and retrieved a storage bag to stow the container. He cursed himself for the promise broken, yet he didn't dare risk the alternative.
Collecting the bag and its contents, he nervously scanned the room once again, eyes settling on his old guitar. He hadn't touched it, nor any musical instrument, since he moved on to start his new life. Walking closer, he noticed it had new strings. Huh.
Picking it up by its neck, he strummed a few chords, surprised to find that it was even in tune. Kristoff smiled. Anna? On impulse, he decided to bring it along. Or maybe it wasn't so much impulse as him hoping he could use this to break the ice. At the very least, it would serve as a diversion for the real reason he actually came back to this room.
Maybe he shouldn't have been too surprised to see Anna in deep conversation with Bulda when he approached his snowcat. The two had bonded during the time spent in the Trallis enclave. It was quite a turnaround, considering his mother's first impression of Anna—apparently not quite the fixer upper she initially claimed.
Pabbie, Cliff and the others were huddled nearby, with a few of the younger Trallis using Sven as if he was a playground fixture.
Sven cried out in mock pain, "Ouch, ouch … Ahhh!" as one youthful imp ran across his rooftop, footsteps echoing heavily in the confines of the cavern. There was a burst of laughter accompanied by giggles from Trallis cubs still on the ground.
Bulda, turning toward the young Trallis, shouted, "Rock, stop that right now! You children need to behave." The boy froze mid-step, not daring to defy her stern command. A few others perched to make the same climb immediately dropped to the floor. The rest just froze in place.
Anna looked on in amusement, her eyes sparkling in the crystal imbued light. It was obvious she relished the antics of the young Trallis. Kristoff wouldn't have been surprised if she joined them. He could easily picture her running along Sven's roof.
Her eyes wandered until their gazes met, at which point her expression lost a little of its glow. Bulda leaned in and whispered in her ear, causing her to smile once more, although the corners of her mouth never quite reached her eyes, as they typically did.
Kristoff shrugged it off and walked into the middle of the fray. "Hi, everybody. Thanks, for coming to say 'Goodbye.'"
He was greeted by a host of Trallis children instantly scrambling toward him. "Kristoff! Uncle Kristoff!" they shouted independently until their echoing voices became unintelligible.
Bulda grabbed him from behind in a huge hug. She held him firmly against her body and Kristoff was barely able to croak, "Mom!"
"Kristoff, deary, you be careful out there. And, take care of your Anna, too." Then she pseudo whispered in his ear, a whisper that could be overheard by everyone, "I approve. She has really good teeth, and even though she does walk a bit funny, I think she'd make you a great wife."
"Mom!" Kristoff cried, this time out of embarrassment. A quick glance revealed Anna reacting the same way, as her face turned beet red.
Cliff interjected. "Your mother's right. Take care, my boy, and come back as soon as it's safe." He paused to discreetly whisper in Kristoff's ear, "Make sure you bring Anna with you." Then he winked.
Kristoff managed to grin sheepishly.
There was a soft brush against his shoulder. Turning, he encountered Pabbie.
"Kristoff, we've prepared a few items for you and Anna. I hope you'll find them useful in the path going forward. I took the liberty of leaving them with Sven." The elder Trallis paused briefly, motioning to one of the subordinates, who quickly handed him an object wrapped in thick cloth. "It's a parting gift. I prepared it myself."
Pabbie carefully observed Kristoff as he handed him the gift. "You must come to terms with your past."
Kristoff accepted the offering, not really knowing what to say.
"Well, open it. Don't just stand there like a big lump," Anna chastised.
He gave her an awkward smile and turned to his grandfather. "Um, thanks, Pabbie." Opening the package, he found himself staring at a one handed axe. The haft was carefully crafted, and reinforced with a winding metal band. The head was incredibly well forged, with its single edge clearly consisting of another metal, keen as a razor, and coming to sharp points on either end. Overall, the axe looked beguilingly simple, but its superb balance, the quality of its materials and efficient design told otherwise.
It was a ceremonial gesture, this gift. Kristoff understood that. Pabbie was aware that this had been a Skallagrim rite of passage. Years ago, at the age of twelve, Kristoff had acquired just such an axe after a grueling series of trials.
"Vápnum sínum skala maðr velli á feti ganga framar," recited Pabbie in old Skalla.
Ann's brow furrowed. She looked at the axe, and then both Pabbie and Kristoff. "What? Are we planning on going someplace with a lot of trees?"
"It's a thing from my youth. A ritual gift, you might say. I doubt we'll be chopping down any trees with it," Kristoff answered, suppressing a grin.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Hmph."
"Well, thanks, Grand Pabbie." He hastily wrapped the axe back up, and took hold of the rest of his gear. "I think we should get going. I want to clear as much distance between us and the Cave of Crystals before that Crucis ship lands. We're going way down the jang-jeng hole on this one."
"Jang-jeng? Is that something like a rabbit?" asked Anna.
"More like a hairy spider. Real tasty … at least I think so."
"Ewww. I hope you're kidding. You are kidding—right? Please tell me you're kidding." No one responded.
Shortly thereafter, he and Anna offered their final greetings.
As they boarded Sven, Kristoff noticed Anna eyeballing the bag containing his guitar, which he placed in the back of the cab. If she was curious about it, she failed to comment. Soon, they were seated and off through one of the side tunnels, traversing back to the surface to meet the harsh climate of Arendelle-255.
The tunnel brought them to a different exit location. As soon as they reached the surface, they were buffeted by the intense winds of the Eternal Vortex. Sven trudged ahead, traveling north, away from Arendelle City and eventually toward the open tundra, where some of the most desolate areas on the planet could be found.
Meanwhile, Anna remained uncharacteristically quiet as they fought their way through the storm. When she did talk, it was directly to Sven and not to him, although there was one instance when ball lightning hurled directly at their vehicle, only to veer off at the last second ... Anna grabbed tightly onto Kristoff's arm then, and shouted, "Kris!" Sadly, she quickly withdrew her hand and continued to ignore him, not even mentioning the incident.
When they finally cleared the Vortex, Kristoff was relieved that Anna hadn't had the same kind of seizure she experienced during their first run. In fact, it was interesting to note that during their entire stay with the Trallis, she was seizure-free. Like all the mysteries shrouding the young woman, he wondered what she still wasn't telling—it was one, of many, important pieces in the jigsaw puzzle that was Anna.
There were still a few villages this side of the storm front. Kristoff avoided them, choosing instead to camp overnight in one of the less popular thermal glades. He scouted the perimeter, looking for signs of harvesters or anything suspicious. With the Duke's bounty on their heads, he didn't want to take any chances.
Helping to keep a low profile was the new Trallis paint. Snowcats were traditionally painted Arctic Orange. Sven was now coated in a finish that could transform at the toggling of a switch. Not only was the snowcat's IR signature reduced, but Sven could now take on the very colors of the surrounding terrain, making him difficult to track or observe.
As they approached the oasis, Anna's interest in her surroundings piqued. Arriving at their first stop, she stepped out of the cat, amazed by the photoluminescence of the flora. "Oh my God, Kristoff. It's beautiful!" Her eyes darted back and forth, absorbing the scene around her, soaking in the trees draped with sparkling blue moss, and the various flowers clustered about the myriad thermal springs. Hidden in all that vegetation, small creatures could occasionally be seen scurrying to and fro.
Kristoff's face was painted with a broad grin. He was happily surprised that Anna had finally acknowledged him, too. "We're going to camp here overnight. Make sure you stay close to either Sven or me."
She gave him a funny look.
"Don't worry, you'll be sleeping inside the snowcat tonight without my company; I'll be outside. Sven can keep you entertained. Just make sure you don't go wandering far from camp."
"I'm not some little girl, you know."
"You could be Oaken, and I'd tell you the same thing …" Kristoff rubbed at his chin. "Hmm, on second thought, if you were Oaken, I just might encourage you to wander." He smiled at his own joke.
Anna responded by sticking her tongue out at him.
Kristoff chuckled as he left to scout the perimeter. When he returned, he was surprised that Anna had set up a makeshift table with some sandwiches laid out on a spread. They ate in semi-silence, although Anna's eyes continued to dart to and fro, mesmerized by the teeming life in the glade. He helped her clean up once they were done and went off to set up for bed.
On impulse, he grabbed his guitar. As dusk set in, the moss seemed to grow brighter, its blue hue mixing with a sky full of scintillating stars, and casting him in a patchwork of faint speckled light.
He sang a song from the Edda, delving deep into his roots and those of his forefathers, remembering warm nights on Skallagrim, where two moons would illuminate the night sky. The ancient words, preserved through countless generations, reverberated with his rich baritone and blended with the chirps and cries of the omnipresent fauna.
The sun, the sister
Of the moon, from the south
Her right hand cast
Over heaven's rim;
His fingers came alive as they danced across the strings, muscle memory overtaking his consciousness and spontaneously producing music as if his guitar was playing itself.
No knowledge she had
Where her home should be,
He felt a presence, her presence from behind, but didn't turn. He drew in his breath through his nose, trying to capture her scent, and exhaled as he sang.
The moon knew not
What might was his,
The stars knew not,
Where their stations were.
Light footsteps shyly backed away, back toward Sven. Kristoff put his guitar aside once he knew she was aboard the snowcat, and nestled into his sleeping bag, one hand seeking comfort in the battle axe Pabbie had gifted him, the other resting on a railgun. Vápnum sínum skala maðr velli á feti ganga framar, he recalled—A man should never step away from his weapons.
Several days had passed as they made their way further north. Kristoff knew that Grendel's crew would be arriving any day now, and that had him worried.
Each night he would take them to another oasis after surveilling it. And each night he would sing right before he went to bed. Anna would surreptitiously come up behind him, never saying a word and he, in turn, would pretend he didn't know she was there.
One morning, he found a small hot spring suitable for bathing. Up until this point, they had been cleaning themselves by using hot water and a sponge. "Let me know when you're done." He had made sure there were no ice wraiths hidden in the area and wandered off, out of sight but within earshot.
When she shouted she was done, he returned to find her, her hair wet and unbraided, wearing an outfit she had acquired from Oaken's. Her face was ruddy from the heat of the water, and Kristoff thought she looked positively radiant. Her aquamarine eyes reminded him of the glowing spores given off by the moss, only more beautiful. The tension between them still existed, but he hoped to make some inroads with her by presenting her with a bouquet of flowers.
The flowers, some of the best he could find, carried the same photoluminescent glow that Anna seemed to be so fond of. He paid careful attention, picking the most fragrant and colorful he could find, but standing here in front of her he began to have some doubt.
"What are you hiding behind your back?" She looked at him suspiciously. "This better not be something stupid."
Crap. Maybe this isn't such a good idea? "Uh, nothing." He began to back off from her.
"Kristoff!"
"What?" I'm going to screw this up again …
She came closer, close enough to poke him straight in the chest. "What. Are. You. Hiding," she emphatically voiced, her fingers keeping rhythm with each word as they attacked his torso.
At this point, Kristoff figured the jig was up. "Um, here." He pulled the bouquet from behind his back and stiffly presented it to her. "I saw the vase full of flowers in my, um, your room … and figured you might like these," he blurted, feeling especially dumb.
"Oh. Oh!" Anna's eyes lit up.
That night, she stood behind him as he sang and surprised him by accompanying him for the first time. He continued to sing with their voices blending together in harmony and his heart beating a little bit faster. She has a lovely voice, were among his last thoughts as she slunk off and he settled in for a night's sleep.
Running on the open tundra could be disorienting, especially when there were no significant landmarks. Kristoff had always had a keen sense of direction, but Anna did not. They were on a long desolate run through some of the flattest terrain in the Northern Hemisphere.
"Everything looks the same. It's just miles and miles of white, with an occasional pokey rock sticking out of the snow."
"Boring is good, Anna. This is Arendelle-255. You can find plenty of excitement, it's just never the kind of excitement you want."
As if his words were a portent, Sven slowed his pace considerably. Frozen in place was an entire herd of lopers—a deer-like species introduced to the planet over a century ago. There must have been over a hundred of them, all dead.
"They're infected," piped Sven. Kristoff nodded, having seen this kind of thing many times before.
Anna looked on, wide-eyed. "Are they all frozen? What happened?"
"Ice wraiths," answered Kristoff in disgust. "Hold up here, Sven." Kristoff began to suit up. When he was done, he grabbed his flamethrower.
"I'm coming along!"
"No. No, you're not."
"You can't stop me."
She began to suit up as well. Kristoff figured there was no point in arguing. He knew how headstrong she could be. He just wanted to spare her from what was next. Well, sometimes you just have to learn the hard way.
He exited the cab and waited. The bitter cold—the true Arendellian cold—penetrated his body, right down to the marrow. When Anna disembarked, wearing dark goggles and a protective magenta balaclava, he was positive that the face underneath the mask was expressing shock.
Confirming his belief, she began to shiver, almost violently, in spite of all the protective gear.
Kristoff breathed into his mic, "Are you okay?"
An answering squeak managed to stutter, "C-c-cold."
He nodded in affirmation, then motioned her to follow him, trudging through the icy field. Kristoff pressed forward … forward towards the charnel plain. "Sven, keep a sharp lookout for anything suspicious."
As they drew closer to the first cluster of animals, he could plainly see the reddish-gray wraiths, now as frozen as their hosts, enveloping the heads of the lopers. Grizzly red ice tendrils extended from the wraiths' maws, in some cases mixed with red rime.
He paused, tunneling deep into his past, taking yet another step toward embracing his roots. The words flowed from his lips with surprising strength:
"In the name of Hela Half-Rotted, Lady Death,
You who are the mistress of quiet endings,
May their venom and viciousness die a straw death,
May it rot away slowly, unnoticed until it goes
Back into the earth from whence it came."
He pulled the trigger on the flamethrower. A jet of viscous flaming liquid sprang forth, engulfing the frozen carrion. A shrill screech rose from the wraiths as they were momentarily reanimated. The noise shook Kristoff to his core.
Anna stumbled into him, holding him tightly. He held her close to his chest until the sounds died, until only the wind could be heard, and the quiet desolation of the open tundra returned.
When they were finished with the rest of the herd, and back aboard the snowcat, Kristoff asked, "Are you alright?"
A tight lipped Anna nodded in response. He wiped away the hoarfrost still clinging to her cheek.
"Kristoff …"
"Shh-shh-shh, Anna. I know …"
An unmarked shuttle landed without fanfare in Arendelle City, spawning the expected whirlwind of dust and debris. After the transport settled, a troop of men, all dressed in common ice harvester fare, disembarked the craft with seeming nonchalance. To the keen eye, one might have noted that none of their gear seemed especially worn. For example, missing was the ad hoc patchwork of insulating tape often found on veteran harvesters due to the necessity of mended their clothing on the ice fields.
Exiting last was a tall, imposing figure with close-cropped blond hair, and lean, weathered features. He, too, was dressed as a harvester, but carried himself with significant authority, as if he was used to having others obey him. He barked a series of orders to the men surrounding him, reinforcing the perception. Immediately they snapped into action, and soon the bay door of the shuttle was opened, revealing a tracked vehicle perched for deployment.
The vehicle sprang to life with a faint, but powerful, hum and proceeded down the gangway and onto the spaceport's tarmac. At first glance, one might have assumed that this was your typical snowcat employed for ice harvesting—it was colored Arctic Orange—except it really didn't have much room for storing ice, and because it was well stocked with what looked like sophisticated navigation and surveillance equipment. In addition, the cost of that equipment alone would have put it out of reach of most, if not all, harvesters.
The men, numbering about a dozen or so, promptly gathered inside the vehicle in well coordinated fashion, as if this was something they had rehearsed often. With everyone onboard, the cat lurched forward, leaving the shuttle behind and arriving a short while later at Oaken's Trading Post.
The water was rich in algae, silica and other minerals, making it an opaque milky-blue. Kristoff leaned back into the thermal spring, dunking his head underwater and day-dreaming about Anna's voice. The temperature was perfect, perhaps six or seven degrees above his natural body's. He would bring Anna here once she woke from her slumber. It was a special treat that he had been saving as a surprise. Springs like this one were rare, not only because of their unique hue, but because the cocktail of algae and minerals made them especially revitalizing.
The one thing he surely learned about Anna was that she had no affinity for the cold; certainly ironic given her choice of planets to flee to.
He held his breath, soaking in the luxurious heat. When Kristoff resurfaced, he was alarmed to hear a warning cry from Sven, "Kristoff!"
Fog! Wispy tendrils of mist crept towards him. Just moments ago the air was clear! He rocketed out of the spring, sweeping up his clothing, his axe, and his railgun. Sprinting as fast as he could, he was soon onboard the snowcat, with the instance in-between a distant blur. Kristoff was vaguely aware that he was stark naked and dripping, but there wasn't much time for modesty. "Sven, what's going on? Jötnar?"
"I don't know. It's weird. Might be a single jötunn. I've never registered anything quite like this signature before," he announced.
"Okay, buddy, let's kick it and get the hell out of Hel." Expecting to find Anna asleep in the cab, he turned to Anna, only to find her convulsing. "Fuck!" Her eyes were rolled back into their sockets, her hair was in extreme disarray, standing on end as if she had been electrocuted.
Kristoff urged Sven on, as he cleared the area around her. He didn't want to restrain her in her current state, nor did he want her to hurt herself as she wildly flailed her arms and legs. Fuck, fuck, and double-fuck. Fog was enveloping the glade; Anna's arms and legs continued to thrash recklessly.
When they broke free of the mist and were on the open tundra, Anna's convulsions stopped abruptly. Kristoff knelt down beside her, holding her hand and stroking her forehead.
She spouted gibberish, just like in the time before. He cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently. Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyes gained focus. "Kristoff?"
"I'm here, Anna. I'm here," he repeated. He'd known this for some time, but this moment punctuated his feelings—nothing was more important to him now than the woman nestled in his arms.
"Kristoff, why are you breathing all over me? And naked?"
"Wha-wha?—Oh, shit!" He dove for his clothing.
A/N - Happy New Year! I tried to get this chapter posted sooner, but things happened. Feel free to leave comments and/or reviews. I'm always happy to answer questions (when I can), so don't be afraid to PM.